


Is It Crazy To Think We Could Be More

by teaandcardigans



Category: Charmed (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate POVs, Drunken Shenanigans, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Grief/Mourning, Harry Greenwood POV, Macy Vaughn POV, Missing Scene, Soft Hacy, Unresolved Emotional Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-10
Updated: 2020-01-12
Packaged: 2021-04-22 17:34:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22196665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaandcardigans/pseuds/teaandcardigans
Summary: Starting from post 1x22 up to 2x05.An examination of Macy and Harry's developing feelings for one another as they are faced with the challenges of their new surroundings.
Relationships: Harry Greenwood/Macy Vaughn
Comments: 11
Kudos: 48





	1. The Sketch

“And so,” Harry announced as he braced himself on the large table, evoking his most serious of tones, “the delicate balance must be maintained.” 

Macy tried to listen, she really did. But he was about ten minutes into what was shaping up to be a thirty-minute monologue and her attention to the words coming out of his mouth was already waning. She noticed Maggie trying to secretly text underneath the table, her eyes occasionally drifting down to her lap, before she would devote her attention back to their whitelighter and his intricate explanation of the social constructs and ingrained traditions of the forest nymphs.

Mel however, seems as though she is hanging on every word, having taken to being the head of the magical community like a duck to water. She raised her hand to ask a question, which Harry was only too happy to elaborate on. Before she furiously scribbled something in her notebook.

Macy looked at her pad, where she was meant to be doing the same, keeping notes, but instead had filled with doodles of flowers, a double helix, and a chemical formula for a new compound she was experimenting on for the satyrs, along with a reminder to book that appointment before Maggie’s birthday. 

“Maggie!” Harry’s stern voice had her jumping herself, a flush of guilt passing through her before she realised the sternness in his voice was not directed at her but instead her younger sister, who’s head shot up in response. A sweet smile already gracing her features and Macy wondered just how many times she had used that smile to get out herself out of trouble with Marisol and Ray when she was younger. 

“I can see the phone.” 

Maggie sighed, the smile slipping with a roll of her eyes as she put her phone back in her pocket, obviously not wanting a repeat of the last meeting where it was confiscated and orbed to an undisclosed location. 

Harry started again as he turned away from them, looking towards the board he had set up to map out the convoluted and intertwined relationships of the nymphs they were expected to memorise. 

Macy noticed out of the corner of her eyes, Maggie straining herself to look at Macy’s notes, which Macy hid from her eyes on instinct, mouthing at her to make her own. When Maggie reached across the table, Macy moved back a loud screech filling the room as her chair leg scraped across the attic floor. 

“Ladies, please,” Harry admonishes them, turning around quickly, his hands leaning on the table as he eyes them both. 

“Sorry Harry,” they reply in unison, as Macy gently pulls her chair back into the table, and a frustrated Mel shakes her head at the two of them.

“May I continue,” Harry asks, making it clear whatever their answer he will be. 

Macy gave a quick nod, and Maggie followed her lead, straightening herself up in her chair and giving Harry her undivided attention while tapping her pen against her notepad.

Harry began again exactly where he had left off and Macy admired his determination, noticing the tension in his jaw that signified his annoyance at being consistently interrupted. Unfortunately, the content of his speech had not grown any more exciting and Macy found herself watching the man delivering the speech rather than listening to the information itself. 

The way his finger taps against his chin while listening to Mel’s question, the slight crinkle of his eyes as he smiles at her sister’s enthusiasm. 

Her pen moving across her page as she notes down all the things that makeup Harry. All the things that she tells herself that she doesn’t notice, not really. Because they were to pretend nothing ever happened. A promise she tried so desperately to keep.  


But as she continues to examine and draw she finds herself wondering what it could be like. To move her fingers across his angular cheek, to have those warm eyes not only greet her in the morning when he hands her her morning coffee but when she wakes up and he is lying next to her. 

And when the meeting is finished and tasks have been assigned, Macy closes her notebook quickly, away from Maggie’s prying eyes. Knowing that she will be tearing out this page, full of warm eyes, strong cheekbones and soft lips and keeping it just for herself. 

For when she wants to imagine. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I know canon has blown up the Macy drawing Harry theory (damn you canon), but, hey, this is fanfiction and I am sticking with this headcanon (they can pry it from my cold dead hands). 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


	2. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set during 2x01 at Maggie's birthday celebration.

Harry watched Macy from the edge of the room. Dancing with her sisters, and for the first time in quite a while she looks like she is enjoying herself. She takes Maggie by the hand twirling her around until they both collide into Mel, the three of them collapsing into a fit of giggles.

He feels like he is intruding on a moment that is not his. But he can’t help himself. The sight of Macy happy, truly happy has become such a rarity that he cannot bear to tear his eyes away from it. He admires her, the way she has grown, not only into her power and the knowledge of being a part of the Charmed ones but also that she has grown more and more in her own confidence. 

Accepting a part of herself when no-one else would. When others were afraid of it, eager to destroy it she stayed strong. And he had found that admiration turning into something else, something that he knew would be dangerous. 

Feelings that were forbidden and for good reason. The Elders had had rules that had been nonsensical and cruel, sure, but this one made sense. Allowing his feelings for one charge to overshadow his duty to the others was a shaky path. One that he had tried to navigate before and failed. 

But he was still human, an immortal one maybe, but still at his core human and fallible. Try as he might, and he had, the feelings that he had for his eldest charge continued to be stubborn and unmoving. 

This moment, Maggie turning Twenty, their new found role in the magical community, which they were excelling at. It was a moment well deserved. And it was theirs, not his. He took a final look at his charges, a familiar sense of pride welling inside his chest before he finished his drink, placing it on the crowded table in front of him and made his way to the foyer to try and find his coat amongst a very unorganised coat rack. 

He tutted to himself, a shake of his head, as he began to move off several coats piled without care on top of his own. 

“Harry!” he spun around at the sound of his name, just as Macy bounded up to him. Her arms wrapped around him, pulling him into a deep hug, threatening to cut off his air supply in her enthusiasm. He allowed himself to relax in the warm comfort of her arms around him, the scent of her overwhelming combined with the aroma of alcohol on her breath.

“I love your hat. It's so cute.” She loosened one arm wrapped around him to pull the tiny pointed party hat from his head before allowing it to snap back into place, dissolving into giggles, her head buried into his chest. 

It would seem that Dr Macy Vaughn is drunk. Very drunk. 

She smiled up at him, her arms still wrapped around him, and he notices just how his hands have fallen automatically, as if on their own accord to her hips. And he can imagine for even a moment what this could be like, before he reminds himself of their agreement and the multitude of reasons why it, this, could never be. 

Reluctantly he removed her hands from around his neck and takes a step back, earning himself a pout. 

“You’re not leaving early are you Harry?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in what he believes she thinks is intimidating however ends up more than a little crosseyed and the distinct sway of her body makes it more adorable than anything. 

“The party will go on without me.” Her eyes widened and her pout returned. She shook her head, her arm wrapped around his own. He tries not to focus on the physical contact, noting how much more touchy she is tonight. 

“Nope, you can’t go.” She stated, pulling him back into the room. “I insist you at least stay for one drink. Maybe a dance, do whitelighters know how to dance?,” she mused as she pulled him back away from the hallway and exit, to the main lounge. 

A dance would be out of the question, not because he doesn’t know how. You don’t live two lifetimes without at least learning the basics. But the level of temptation that that would provide, might just be unbearable. 

“Macy I think-” 

She held up a finger to silence him, “Nope. No thinking. Tonight is about fun. And you deserve this as much as we do.”

“I really should,” he looked back towards the hallway his hope of a quiet getaway dashed. 

“One drink.” She looked up at him and he wonders if perhaps she has been taking lessons from Maggie in how to batt her eyelashes, however unco-ordinated the execution of it may be in her current state. 

He dropped his shoulders in defeat, “Fine, one drink.” 

Her face immediately brightened at his response, the pout on her lips replaced by an infectious smile as she clasped her hands together. 

He stopped a waiter passing past them, taking one drink for himself and another for her. He gives it a smell, before deciding that that was an ill-advised decision, the alcohol burning his nose. 

“To new beginnings,” she says, her glass clinking against his own before he takes a sip and she downs the drink in one hit, seemingly without a care for the hangover that is sure to take ahold in the morning. 

“To new beginnings,” he repeated after her, wishing it could be true. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kind comments and kudos, trying to keep the Hacy faith alive despite the curve balls being thrown in our direction.


	3. The Dream

Macy knows this one. 

Her bedroom, the middle of the night, her in her nightgown. The one she would never dare wear outside of the privacy of her own bedroom. Especially now that Harry is living with them. She examines herself in the mirror, wondering why it is always this one. Something about snakes and temptation she supposes. 

“Macy,” she closes her eyes at the sound of her name leaving his lips. Her breath already shallow and her heart racing as she catches his shape in the mirror. 

This is how it starts, him coming to her. Much as he has done outside of her dreams. Eyes full of concern, soft touches that let her know that she is loved. That she is special. 

“Harry,” she says as she turns, surprise in her voice even though she knows exactly how this will play out. A familiar dream, but there is this nagging suspicion that something is amiss. The way he stalks towards her from out of the shadows, an almost predatory look in his eyes that catches her off guard. 

“Harry, you scared me,” she tells him with a nervous smile, noticing almost immediately the change in his attire. No longer the three-piece suit that her imagination would conjure for her, or even the white button-down. This is … different. 

“Are you happy to see me?”, he asks with a tilt of his head, examining her more closely than he ever has. Here or in the real world. She pulls at the robe, making it tighter around her body, covering her exposed skin from his persistent gaze. 

A nervous laugh leaves her lips, “What are you doing here? What do you want?” she asks hoping that the question will somehow make everything slip back to where it should be. That he will run his hand nervously through his hair, fumbling for an excuse as to why he has come to find her in the middle of the night. 

A troll on the loose.

Perhaps an errant Jinn perhaps. 

Instead, he strides forward, leaving precious little distance between them and Macy grips the material of her robe tighter feeling the control that she has here slipping away. 

“For us to be together.” 

His hand reaches up and settles on the space between her chest and shoulder, his thumb moving over her collarbone. The heat of his skin can be felt even through the silky satin of her robe. Her skin begging for the barrier to disappear so that she can feel his bare skin against her own. 

“That’s what I want.” And as if he can hear her body’s silent plea he pushes the material off her shoulder making her gasp at the sudden movement and his fingertips brushing against her now bare skin. 

“We can’t,” she tells him. It’s what she always does because when she thinks about all of this logically she knows that they shouldn’t. That it would shift the dynamics of not just the relationship between her and Harry but of that with her sisters. She had been so dangerously close during Maggie’s birthday. The alcohol coursing through her veins, making things seem so much simpler than they were. The strength of his body against hers as she hugged him tightly, wondering what he would do if she closed the gap between them.  But she didn’t. With everything that had happened, it was for the best to safely put her feelings regarding Harry Greenwood in a box marked “Do Not Open”. 

Except here of course. In her dreams, she allowed herself this guilty pleasure that she could partake in without consequence. Without the fear of changing everything. 

But he doesn’t retreat at her words. There should be some hesitation, some sign that he is struggling with what he is feeling just as much as she is. But his movements are anything but, they are bold, confident. 

His hand moves from her bare chest, tantalisingly close to the lace edge of her nightgown, to her neck applying just enough pressure to elicit a small gasp. “Oh, but we must,” he whispers and her control is fleeting as she closes her eyes. Allowing herself to become lost to the sensation of his thumb moving across her cheek, fingers tightening at the back of her neck and winding into her hair. 

“It’s our destiny.” He pulls her closer, and she leans into him, anticipating that the next thing she will feel is his lips against hers. In contrast, she feels the coldness of a single finger held up against her lips stopping her just short of finally getting what she has been craving. 

“But first -”

A disappointed sigh leaves her lips. 

“You need to tell me where you are.” There is an edge to his voice, demanding, coarse and unfamiliar. Her eyes flash open, meeting his and she sees no trace of Harry in them. And she is looking at a stranger. 

“Tell me where you are,” he repeats.

She wills herself to wake, this isn’t right, and a sense of dread rises up in her.

Bolting upright in her bed, her eyes moving around the room to make sure she truly is alone. A faint sheen of sweat covering her body as she tries to piece together what exactly just happened. 

And just how exactly she was going to stop it from happening again. 


	4. The Snow

There were two bodies lying in the snow. While they had managed, just, to save one of the witches they had been too late for the others.

Harry feared the demons were becoming bolder and more reckless in their attacks. It hadn’t become about maintaining their own numbers just how many of the other side they could wipe out. Whatever, or whoever, was uniting these demons was dangerous. Not because of any power that they may possess, but what they stood for. The unification of the demon world could only spell trouble for witches. 

The survivor grips onto the hands of her fallen friends, as she crouches down to them, kneeling in the fallen snow, her body folding in on itself as the sobs and wails overtake her body. It is painful to watch and he can see Macy avert her eyes an attempt to block out the pain and anguish in front of them. 

He feels Macy’s hand on his elbow, pulling gently to catch his attention, pulling his eyes away from the scene in front of them. 

“We should go,” she whispers to him, her body shifting nervously next to him, her eyes darting to the rustle of the branches of the surrounding trees as the cold wind blows through them. 

He knows that they should, exposed out in the Alaskan cold when anyone could be coming. He notices the pain in Macy’s eyes and feels his heart break for what this must be doing to her each time they fail to save them. 

He wishes he could spare her from this, that he could spare her from a lot of things. But this, the constant grief. That no matter how many names they add to the board in the command centre the balance always seems to be tipped against them. 

Three witches stripped of their powers and a broken whitelighter. What hope do they have?   


He rests his hand over Macy’s a stab of guilt when she moves it away, reminded again of what he represents to her now. How his features must be twisted in her own mind as a result of that ‘thing’. He ignores the loss felt in the pt of his stomach and offers a gentle smile. 

“Give her a little longer.”

Macy nods her head in response, pulling the scarf around her neck tighter to stave off the cold. 

  
He knows that she will blame herself for this, as he watches her staring at the broken bodies on the ground, no longer able to continue to look away. That she must be running through her head all the different scenarios, possibilities and actions that she could have taken so that they were leaving with three witches instead of one. 

He knows because he is doing the same. How similar they are in dealing with the loss of others. The role of a whitelighter was not without its own fair share of loss and grief. 

He remembers the first one he ever lost. 

The grief, a white, hot burning pain felt throughout every bone in his body had consumed him. Kept him awake for nights on end, analyzing every step that had led up to her death. That he hadn’t trained her well enough. She had been too unprepared. An easy target for a demon wanting to prove a point.

He had been too soft in his methods, too lenient. She had been different, reminded him of someone, but the harder he tried to grasp onto who it was, the more the memory slipped from his grasp. Much more concerned with being a friend and confidante than an advisor, cold, detached, removed and what purpose it served in the end. Her neck snapped, with only a flick of the demon’s wrist while he had only been able to look on powerless to stop it. 

It had been another whitelighter, one who had seen many deaths, but also stories of survival who had come to him, while he continued to pace in the room the Elders had set up for him to ‘recover’ muttering to himself about should of and could of. That wouldn’t change anything. 

‘Remember your losses, Harry, but celebrate your victories too.” she had told him, and he hadn’t been able to stop the scoff that left his lungs. But she didn’t scold him, didn’t punish him as the Elders would have. She just smiled gently and reminded him of his other charges. Those he had trained who had come into their powers. Even becoming Elders themselves because he taught them like he cared because it was life and death for him, not just a role he was playing. 

‘There will always be a loss, Harry. But if we dwell too long we lose ourselves in it. We remember it, how it feels, it's important but we must keep going, for them.’

Macy looked back at him again, her eyes pleading with him to leave, and he gave a nod, as she crouched down next to the sobbing witch gently pulling her to her feet. 

Despite how hopeless it may seem, however, unbalanced the board is that they need to keep going, he needs to keep going. 

For them. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments, kudos and for reading. One more chapter to go.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so I know canon has blown up the Macy drawing Harry theory (damn you canon), but, hey, this is fanfiction and I am sticking with this headcanon (they can pry it from my cold dead hands). 
> 
> Thank you for reading.


End file.
